


I can’t remember my loneliness (but I can still feel it)

by SolivagantStories



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dead Wilbur Soot, Fluff, Gen, Ghostbur, Ghostbur can tell when people are sad, Memory Loss, Ranboo is lonely, Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), but he chooses to ignore it, tommy is exiled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27961433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolivagantStories/pseuds/SolivagantStories
Summary: Ranboo wasn’t there when Ghostbur was alive. Sometimes he forgets that Ghostbur isn’t his real name, that it’s a nickname that people use to differentiate. To separate Ghostbur from his past sins.Because Ghostbur doesn’t remember.And that’s the thing.Ranboo understands that.———Or, ever since Tommy was exiled Ranboo has been lonelier than ever.
Relationships: Ranboo & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 21
Kudos: 648





	I can’t remember my loneliness (but I can still feel it)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I know I should be continuing Renewal. But I mean. I posted a one shot for it yesterday. And also. Ranboo.

Ranboo has always felt a kinship with Ghostbur that he probably shouldn’t. 

He hasn’t told anyone about it. About how he can look at the ghost of a terrorist, of a man whispered about in legends, and relate. He hasn’t told anyone about how he can see himself in Ghostbur’s expressions. In the way he holds himself. 

Ranboo wasn’t there when Ghostbur was alive. Sometimes he forgets that Ghostbur isn’t his real name, that it’s a nickname that people use to differentiate. To separate Ghostbur from his past sins. 

Because Ghostbur doesn’t remember. 

And that’s the thing. 

Ranboo understands that. 

He understands how it feels to blink and suddenly feel... lost. Confused. Like the world’s shifted a bit to the left but you don’t know when it did, or why. And all you’re left with is a feeling of disorientation. And a need for stability. 

So Ranboo understands. 

But he still doesn’t talk to Ghostbur much. No one does, really. It’s an unspoken rule that if Ghostbur doesn’t come up to you first you should just... ignore him. Hope he goes away. 

Because even if Ghostbur doesn’t remember, he’s still left scars behind. He’s left scars on the land, and on its people. Scars in their hearts and on their skin. 

And for some it’s too painful to see him so happy, so free, when they’re weighed down by his past. 

It feels wrong of him to understand. To pity Ghostbur. To want to get to know the ghost of an angry man. 

So Ranboo doesn’t. 

And after Tommy’s banished it’s even easier. Ghostbur’s gone most days, visiting his younger brother who’ll soon grow up to be older than him. He’s gone to Tommy’s little place in the middle of nowhere. 

And Ranboo’s alone. 

Tommy was really his only friend, for those few tense days before he’d been forced to leave. Ranboo was tall and scary and awkward, and he hadn’t clicked with anyone else. 

There was Niki, but she... she was gone. Holed up somewhere. He hasn’t seen her much at all, since he’d first hung out with her. 

There was Tubbo, but he was haunted and tired and the President. And Ranboo was just a civilian. 

There were others, but they were scared of him. 

So he was alone. 

Ranboo sat on top of Ghostbur’s crane, legs swinging in the air. He wasn’t afraid of heights, not like he was of water, and he adored the view. He wished he could take a snapshot. Wished that he’d always see this when he closed his eyes. 

Instead he hummed under his breath, rocking gently. 

He was alone, but... but he was used to it. Even if he couldn’t remember where he’d been before, he could still feel the coldness. The emptiness in his chest of long days with nothing to do. 

Ranboo paused. 

Someone was humming along with him, harmonizing. They kept humming even as he stopped, confused. 

Ranboo turned, and there was Ghostbur, hovering over the crane, hands clasped in front of him. He looked as hollow as ever, the only color a faint yellow. 

Ghostbur stopped humming, mouth forming into a grin. 

As large and as genuine as it was, Ranboo couldn’t help but feel it looked broken. A bit too large, and a bit too see through. 

“Would you like some blue?” 

The question was as soft as ever, coming from Ghostbur, and Ranboo nodded. He never said no to Ghostbur. 

Saying yes always made him light up. He looked the most alive when he was talking about blue. When someone held his blue in their hands. 

Ranboo felt the rough texture between his fingers, fiddling with it. He couldn’t remember when Ghostbur had last given him blue, but he knew he had some somewhere. Now he had more. 

Ghostbur floats into view and Ranboo watches as he twirls midair, flipping upside down. 

“Hello, Ranboo,” Ghostbur whispers, childlike smile never leaving his lips.

“Hello, Ghostbur,” Ranboo parrots, squeezing the blue closer to his chest. 

For some reason he always feels lighter when he holds it, as though his rambling thoughts have finally calmed. Faded. 

He glances at the lights of New L’Manberg through Ghostbur’s hollow chest, unable to stop a small smile. 

“What’s your favorite place, Ghostbur?” He asks, unable to stop himself. 

Ghostbur freezes. For a moment Ranboo’s nervous. He’s never been good with words, always making bad impressions. Then Ghostbur seems to melt, floating down to sit next to him. 

“...You’re asking me?” He asks, voice somehow softer than ever, “Not Alivebur?” 

And then Ranboo understands. 

Of course. Even though he can relate to Ghostbur a bit more than he should, he still doesn’t truly get it. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be seen as someone you don’t even remember being. 

He wonders if anyone has ever asked Ghostbur about his likes and dislikes. If they’ve seen Ghostbur as his own person, with different memories than the Wilbur they knew. 

Ranboo’s never met Wilbur. It’s easy to see Ghostbur as his own person. 

“Of course,” he says, “Why would I ask someone who isn’t around anymore?” 

Ghostbur lights up like the Christmas tree on Ranboo’s house, glowing brighter. He seems more tangible for a split second, sweater a solid yellow. 

“Well...,” he says, “I quite like the sewers, or at least my spot in them. It’s small and cozy! Reminds me of... of my old house with Phil and everyone.” 

Ranboo can see the unfiltered happiness in Ghostbur’s gaze, and can’t help but feel a bit jealous. 

His memories aren’t all happy. His mind can’t choose to remember all the little warm moments. He just... can’t remember. 

He bites his lip, trying not to show any of his emotions on his face. 

Ghostbur notices anyway. He always seems to notice when others are sad, even though he doesn’t say anything. He always plows on through, keeps on talking. 

“...Though your house is quite nice as well,” Ghostbur continues, gesturing towards the brightly lit R, “It definitely adds... personality.” 

Ranboo nods, and they fall into silence for a moment, both overlooking the hastily remade country. Ranboo has never seen it before it was a crater, but he can imagine it. Can imagine the little buildings and the love that was poured into each block. 

It reminds him of Tommy, forced away from a place he fought so hard for. 

“...How has Tommy been, Ghostbur?” Ranboo asks, still watching the lanterns flicker, “And shouldn’t— shouldn’t you be with him right now?” 

Ghostbur floats up a bit higher, blocking a bit of his view. 

“Tommy has been needing quite a bit of blue lately,” Ghostbur says, and Ranboo’s heart clenches, “Though he needs less when you send him letters.” 

Then he pauses. 

“...I’m a messenger! That’s why I’m here. He misses you, Tommy does. Yep! And he’d like to see you again, some time.” 

He leans in like he’s about to tell a secret, sly smile on his face. Ranboo leans forward too subconsciously, hands gripping at the crane to keep him from falling. 

“Though I don’t really get why,” Ghostbur hisses, “We’re just on vacation! Lads on tour and all that.” 

Ranboo clutches at the blue Ghostbur gave him, biting his lip. He feels weighed down, sad. 

Sometimes he wishes he was like Ghostbur, forgetting but lost in happy moments. But then he sees moments like this, and is reminded that there’s more one needs in life than happiness. 

He wants to see Tommy so badly. Wants to run to his friend and hug him tight, wants to assure him out loud that he’s there for him. But... he’s already visited far too many times, and he’s running for president. 

He’s running for president for Tommy. For Ghostbur. They can come back, once he’s in charge. He’ll let them come back. 

Even though Ghostbur’s here, by his side, he isn’t truly back. He thinks he’s on vacation, and even if he knew... Ranboo knows he’d stay by his brothers’ side no matter what. 

Sometimes Ranboo wishes he had someone like that. 

Ghostbur whistles, loud and sharp, and Ranboo flinches back, catching himself on a beam. He stares at the ghost, heart in his throat. 

“Don’t— Don’t do that!” 

Ghostbur doesn’t even apologize as he shoves more blue in Ranboo’s free hand, ever present smile still on his lips. 

“Then don’t get all sad!” He says, “You need more blue already. I might run out, and that wouldn’t be good at all.” 

Ranboo stares at the blue in his hands. It’s rough, but also soft, and something within him brightens. Something within him is reminded of what it represents. 

He looks up, staring the ghost right in the eyes, despite how transparent they are. 

“...Thank you Ghostbur. Thank you.” 

Ghostbur, like always, smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a quick drabble, but I hoped you enjoyed! <3


End file.
